


Toil and Trouble

by deepandlovelydark



Category: MacGyver (TV 1985), MacGyver (TV 2016), Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: Duct Tape, Flash Fic, Humour, ambiguous canon, tagging eh, whoops there's some angst now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepandlovelydark/pseuds/deepandlovelydark
Summary: Some stories are constants. So are some friends.(Had this idea to write a fic that works equally well, whichever version of MacGyver one prefers.Am not entirely surprised that Jack Dalton ended up in it as well.)





	1. Chapter 1

Damn those DXS morons. After spending a week running from a pack of agents who theoretically ought to have been on their side, it's a wonder Mac even knows which direction is up anymore.

"C'mon, think up something clever," Jack says patiently. "Something to make you trust me, so I can help you out already. You can't expect me to be the brains of this operation, can you?"

"I guess not," MacGyver admits, though he doesn't move to narrow the distance between them. What can a man accomplish with a tuning fork and an electrical system, anyway? Probably nothing good. "Okay, here's one. Remember that camping trip, when we were inventing ridiculous emergency code phrases? What's the one we settled on?"

"Oh, hell," Jack says in dismay. "That was years back! I thought you were kidding!"

"I was. So it's a bit of information they're unlikely to have interrogated out of you, I'll take that much of a chance." His expression hardens. "But you're going to say you don't know, aren't you?"

"Give me a minute....uh, we were in the Adirondacks. After a pretty rough trip to Bulgaria, and you said you knew this great fishing spot in a- wassathing? A koom?"

"A cwm. Keep going."

"We had this ugly yellow canvas tent, I asked why and you said because it's the nicest colour under candlelight. I kept making fun of it until we made camp and lit the candles, waxy red ones. And you were right, it did look great." Jack closes his eyes. "Also I had to borrow your shaving gear because I'd forgotten mine, and it was a '30s straight razor. Army issue. Pretty sharp for an antique. I caught four catfish the third day out and you said you'd make me throw them back if I wasn't going to eat them, so I rolled them in cornmeal and cooked 'em in leftover bacon grease. You were trying out this old lure your dad had made and didn't catch a thing, except..."

"Except what?"

"Except a size twenty-one boot, and we wondered who the heck had lost that. I'm sorry, Mac, I'm remembering everything about that trip except that stupid code."

"Behold my stupid hat."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have let you pick out a code phrase while drunk," MacGyver says, shrugging. "But you said it was only fair exchange for two nicely fried catfish, so who was I to argue?"

"Uh. Does that mean you trust me again?"

"Jack, I just said that! C'mon, I've got a hot lead to follow up. If it goes well Langley will be singing our praises inside of a week."

"And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't I'm no worse off than I am now. You sure you're coming? It'll be kinda dangerous."

Well. 

He does, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't really counted on making this an ongoing fic, but hey, if the ideas keep coming...

The first time, Jack figures that Mac must have brought along a razor. 

By the fourth time, he's starting to suspect shenanigans. 

Tenth time, after they'd bailed out of a plane with no equipment whatsoever, he's positive that something's going on. 

"Mac, I don't get it. Three days in the middle of blasted nowhere- just how are you keeping up that clean shave?"

"I've got my SAK, don't I?"

"You can't shave with a thing like that! It'd never hold a sharp enough edge!"

"Mine does," Mac says, with a shrug. "Want to borrow it?"

Unbelievable, but it actually works.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, his real obsession is with MacGyver. No question about that.

But Jack Dalton has a way of hanging around even when he's not supposed to, and there are times Murdoc wonders. A peculiar relationship enough, without making it a threesome: but then, aren't all three of them peculiar?

(One time, he sends the two of them suggestive flowers. It doesn't end well.)

Occasionally, he even thinks about Dalton alone- humorous eyes, that roguish charm. It's like cheating on his troubleshooter; and it evokes a certain guilt. 

And guilt is such a deliciously rare emotion for him, these days.


	4. Chapter 4

"Math," MacGyver remarks, as he glides over the ice. "Math, quick reflexes, an opponent to outthink and plenty of ice to keep you cool. Hockey's the perfect combination, I don't see what you have against it."

"Mac, I'm from Texas. Y'know, Texas? Southern state, kinda sunny? Down there, ice is something you put in beer?"

"But it's got everything you like about football, and then some. Needless violence, even."

"Yeah, I noticed!" 

They've only been out here for half an hour, and his skating partner's already humiliated him six ways from Sunday. "How come you're only like this in the rink, huh?"

"Because on a mission it's for real," MacGyver says. "On the rink, I can pretty much let myself go. If I lose, I lose. If I don't, great!"

He slaps a shot forward, which bounces off Jack's hockey stick and ricochets straight into the net. 

"As though you'd ever lose. Out there or in here," Jack mutters. 

And readies himself for the next shot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was this prompt going around for the Mac-and-Jack-stuck-in-Siberia thing from 2.03. 
> 
> Enjoy, folks.

"How would you know? It's not your butt."

"Jack, don't be ridiculous. If you were really getting frostbite, it'd start with your extremities. Right now you're just cold," MacGyver assures him, fondly. "How are the sleeping bags doing?"

"The little one's still drenched. The other one's almost dry."

"Well, get into that one. They're designed to handle a little moisture, you should be okay as long as you keep it zipped up."

"Right..."

Two guys, one sleeping bag. Tricky territory, for two guys who do a lot of kidding around but have never gone anywhere near there. Or even admitted there was a there that they aren't going to. 

Maybe he can make this less awkward, by putting it in strictly medical terms. "But if I am getting frostbite, then...uh, bodily warmth is recommended, right?"

"Actually, no. Warm water is much better for the job- that's why I'm warming up that bucket of snow over the fire. To dip my hands in, once I'm done working on the radio for the night."

"I thought that was for your tree bark tea."

"That too, afterwards. Unless you want to wait another couple hours for hot tea."

"Uh-huh. Any other fun wilderness tips to dole out?"

"Oh, I haven't even got started yet," MacGyver says, straight-faced. "They've done studies on how personal bodily warmth can be exchanged most efficiently, since you were asking. Turns out, it's in the nude. Direct skin-to-skin contact, without any insulators-"

"Mac, would you wipe that smirk off your face? Because that is definitely supposed to be my look, so quit stealing it already."

"Who, me? Just tryin' to pass on a few science facts here...."


	6. the Miami Vice crossover one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way angsty AU sorta thing. Riffing on Miami Vice's "Out Where the Buses Don't Run", which is a Quite Frankly Astonishing piece of television. 
> 
> (I'd love to see a full fledged fic of this, only it'd be so depressing to write.)

MacGyver leans against the wall, watching. Along with the waiting cops. 

At the other end of the room, Jack Dalton is slamming away at the same wall with a sledgehammer; but it's so firmly built, he can't even feel the vibrations. Good bit of construction, this. Sturdy. Made from a compound that dries in only two hours, but stays strong, impregnable...

One final blow, and now they're all looking through the shattered remnants. One mummified corpse, still clutching a yellowing newspaper. 

"Say hello," Jack says, with bright delighted madness, "to Mr Arcaro!"

Too rich to imprison; but not too savvy to kill. 

(Of course, Jack had lost it a long time ago; but now he's not even pretending. Or maybe the sanity had always been the pretense. Hard to tell, now- when had the quips soured, the violence started to fester? Before or after he'd decided to go rogue on Arcaro? Not that it really matters, now...)

"He was my partner, you understand?" MacGyver asks, for the benefit of the silent cop besides him. "You understand?" 

"Yeah."

(The cop has a partner, too.)

"Book him," Jack says, tired and satisfied. The stereo mix of "Brothers in Arms" swells, fades. Typically over-the-top touch, that, so very Jack...

"You knew he killed Arcaro."

"I helped him build the wall."

(It'd have kept the secret indefinitely; and so would he...)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt- Mac, Jack, tired hugging. I mighta taken that a bit too literally, but hey. 
> 
> ('80s version doesn't need an explanation why they aren't using cell phones. '10s version, well, this is what happens when you keep using phones for spare parts...)

"Fifty-eight hours, and...n' does it really matter 'bout the minutes?" Mac asks him.

MacGyver is really, really not in any condition to be driving an eighteen-wheeler top speed down a highway, having been awake for the aforementioned timespan; and the only thing stopping Jack from forcibly shoving his friend out of the driver's seat is that at sixty-two hours and counting, he's doing even worse on the sleep stakes. And to be fair, Mac's the one with the CDL.

(Of course he has one. The guy knows everything.)

"I bet you could work it out, if you really wanted to. Just a simple math problem, right?"

"Mmm...if I was concentrating," Mac says, not even trying to suppress a yawn. "On something besides getting this rig back to civilisation..."

About the sixth or seventh time he's said that. Jack's not entirely sure if Mac's trying to remind himself or if he just keeps forgetting he said it. Unless those are the same thing, at this point? (He's not thinking very clearly either, but as long as they're both talking, they're not sleeping.)

"Get some sleep, Jack. I figure it's gonna be about another half hour before we make it anywhere, there's no point both of us staying up now. Enjoy some shut-eye."

"Sure there is, I want to stay awake for this. Suppose you fall asleep at the wheel, huh?"

"Then half of Los Angeles goes," MacGyver says, taking one hand off the wheel for a vaguely flailed gesture (Jack would love to cringe at this point, but that would involve moving.) "Uh...whassathing. Blooey. Yeah, I think that's more than enough incentive to keep me awake."

"Don't forget what happens to us, if you crash into anything."

Mac giggles. Not laughter, outright giggling. "Crash into what, Jack? All the desert out here-"

"I dunno. That rest stop coming up real fast, on our right?"

"Wha- oh! Huh."

Blinking, MacGyver cuts in the air brakes, pulls up the truck to a screeching halt. Of course, at their speed and weight, they overshoot the target by a good thirty yards. 

"Guess I was so busy drivin', I didn't even notice what was right in front of me..."

"C'mon," Jack says. "We got a phone call to make, remember?"

It's maybe not the longest thirty yards he's ever walked (that would have to be one miserably hot slog in Latin America- what are they're calling Dinoto these days? San, San something or other...) But at the end of it is their phone booth.

Takes the two of them a solid minute to remember what they're actually meant to do with it, mind. And Mac's supposed to be such a genius. 

"Can I borrow a quarter?" 

"Thought you had one," Jack says, not bothering to check his empty wallet. "There's gotta be a quarter around here somewhere, right? In the truck or in the gas station or somewhere...'nother ten yards walk, that's it."

"We're way too tired to do that," MacGyver pronounces, absently leaning against him. "Nah, if I just have a poke around in here...phreakin'."

"When did you take up swearing?"

"Say what? Phone phreaking- heh." A slow smile crosses his face; he fiddles with the device for a couple minutes, picks up the phone. "Hey? Phoenix Foundation? Yeah, it's MacGyver here."

Jack's just awake enough to clock his friend going straight into professional mode, relaying the necessary info with crisp, efficent tones. LA's safe, Phoenix is in the loop about where they are, somebody'll come out and collect them soon...

"And also, somebody needs to make sure the truck driver doesn't get penalised for going off route- I mean, it's not his fault I stole his truck. What? No, no, the guy's still in the sleeping compartment, I just hotwired it...well, it made sense at the time, okay? Poor guy looked like he was having a nice nap. Which is exactly what I'm gonna do next, if you don't mind...yeah, fine. Jack says hi."

"No I didn't."

"Jack would be saying hi, if he wasn't so tired he's being grouchy. Can't say as I blame him. See you in LA."

Mac hangs up. And now that the job's done, promptly collapses.

Fortunately, Jack's sort of been expecting that, and catches the exhausted troubleshooter. Heavy, sweet and safe. It'll be fun teasing him about this, later.

"Geez, I can't fall asleep in here," Mac mumbles, not even awake enough to hang on to him. "Somebody might want to make a phone call."

"Don't worry about it," Jack says, doing his best to make sure they don't hit the ground too hard. Mostly successfully. "We'll be fine."

Phoenix moves pretty fast. Anybody wanting to make a phone call can wait until they get here, Mac's already snoring. But he'll stay awake. Just in case. 

(Jack doesn't, of course.

But they've saved the day by then.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the indefatigable Katikat, who's quite right that the Mac-is-on-the-run-from-the-Phoenix-Foundation story would have to be a long fic, to be done properly. 
> 
> True enough. Here's a ficlet from it anyway. (Which is also a loose sequel to chapter one of this fic, I've been messing around with the concept for a while now.)

Mac genuinely likes wilderness, is the thing. Enjoys hiking and fishing and leaving all the trappings of civilisation behind.  

So he suggests an extended camping trip, when Washington lets them down. After it proves impossible to clear MacGyver's name from the charges the CIA's slapped together- they could deal with genuine accusations, but this list is so ridiculous and trumped-up they can't make any headway with it. Though Jack can't help being amused at Mac's upset over one of the pettiest and yet most egregious claims. 

"Why would I have posed for a photo with a top secret missile? What kind of secret agent would even do that?"

"Sure you didn't? You gotta admit- for a fake, it does make you look pretty awesome."

MacGyver has this way of looking dismayed that's simultaneously heart-rending and laugh-worthy. Kinda adorable. 

But it's natural as breathing, for the native Minnesotan to visualise disappearing into the bush. Go off the grid for a few months, let the dust settle. Wait for a friend or two in high places to wrangle Mac into favour again, then come back swinging. As a plan, it'd had its merits. 

That'd been three weeks ago. Three weeks that have gone on for about ten million years, far as Jack Dalton's concerned- damnit, he's getting too old for this. Backpacking through warzones had been one thing when he was in his twenties, when he'd had the surefire conviction that came from being young and really not giving a shit about anybody besides himself. But looking after somebody else is a whole 'nother kettle of fish- and it's a whole lot worse when the recipient isn't taking his presence seriously. 

Because as much as MacGyver insists that they're safe now, that nobody's gonna come chasing them up to the wilds of northern Alaska, Jack doesn't believe a word of it. Can't bring himself to relax, can't sleep without waking up every time a bird cries or a wolf howls, half a mile off. He's an old enough hand in this business not to trust anyone or anything.

Except, and only ever, Mac- but he's the exception to break all rules. 

So issue number one, playing bodyguard isn't too much fun at the moment. Issue number two, Los Angeles is sounding better and better every day. Chez Dalton, his snazzy new television, a kitchen stocked with something besides tins and their weight in protein bars (the techs at Phoenix can go on all day about how the things are nutitionally balanced and full of vitamins and blah blah blah, that still doesn't make them real food.)

"Isn't it peaceful out here?" MacGyver asks, gazing up at the sky. Birdwatching, with a set of binoculars.

"Issue number three," Jack says, under his breath. "Gimme those."

He wrestles them out of Mac's hands, points 'em at the undergrowth instead- and sure enough, there's a flicker of movement. Tell-tale flash of man-made fibres. 

"Four squaddies, coming this way. Mac, get in the house."

"No way. I'm sticking by you-" 

"Mac, get!" 

He hasn't spoken that sharply to Mac in years; but needs must, and it works. The troubleshooter makes for their cabin, loping along with his quick sharp stride. He'll be safe now, that's all that matters. 

And looking after himself is so much easier. Jack smiles. Cocks his weapon jauntily, even if he is outmanned and outgunned. 

"If you guys came all this way for the fishing, I can't say as I recommend it," he calls. "Haven't caught a single fish the whole time-"

"Jack Dalton," Nikki says. "You know who we're here for. C'mon, give him up- Phoenix wants him back already."

If they'd just wanted to ask for their agent to come home, friendly like, they wouldn't have brought along that many AK-47s. Besides which-

"Okay. What the hell's happening in LA?"

"Oh, a few things. Ups and downs of the Game, you know how it goes. I'll put on the handcuffs myself, if you don't care to do it."

Same sardonic smile he remembers so well; she always did enjoy patronising him. 

"You get Mac over my dead body," Jack says flatly. 

"C'mon," Nikki says, very coyly now. "Nobody's going to hold this little escapade against you, we all know about your loyalty index. But just because MacGyver's going down, doesn't mean you have to. You're a good asset. No substitute for him, but you know Phoenix could still use you...wouldn't it be something, to be an agent in your own right? Not constantly overshadowed by your better angel?"

She puts out her hand, palm flat and empty. Waiting for him to put a gun into it. 

"Sounds like quite the temptation," Jack remarks. "Y'know what?"

"What?"

"It really isn't. Here's the thing," he says. Not to Nikki, to the other three. Talking hard and fast and sure of himself now, a hint of bossiness like he'd cultivated in his CIA days. "This is me, right? Now maybe I'm not as bright as Mac or Nikki, but at this range, I'm certainly good enough to take her down with me- so that'd leave three of you to go catch Mac. Now how do you think that's going to go for you, up against the smartest agent Phoenix has ever seen? That guy could kill the three of you with a paperclip without breaking a sweat- and he'd do it too, once he knows I'm down."

They're looking uncomfortable now. Nikki almost hisses her next words. "You're bluffing. Mac doesn't kill people, it's not his style."

"I," Jack says evenly, "have every confidence in him."

It's Nikki's downfall that she's such a good agent. She doesn't like the idea of wasting perfectly sound material when it isn't absolutely necessary. 

Jack has no such qualms, and that makes him just quick enough on the uptake to get off his shot before she has a chance to down him. 

"So," he says, blowing off his gun. "Any of you happen to know the closest place to get a BLT around here?"

He's not sure if it's the comment or Mac's jury-rigged tarp catapult that really spooks 'em, but the three foot soldiers are mild as milk, afterwards. 

Weird. Seemed like a natural enough question to him. 

************

Four hours later, there's the open road ahead and a cabin full of tied-up agents well in the rear. Mac's thoughtfully put together a slow-burning candle contraption that'll let them go- eventually.

And he's finally loosened up enough to talk some. "I didn't want you to kill anybody, just to protect me- I thought we'd be safe out here. That nobody else would have to die on my behalf."

Geez. Typical MacGyver, looking out for some assassin's life more than his own. 

Jack leans against the steering wheel, honks it accidentally. Amateur mistake, but they haven't even seen another car in absolute yonks. "Guess not. We're still in the Game, whether you like it or not."

"I thought you'd be teasing me."

"Not for something this important."

"Go on," Mac says, not a little desperate. "Tell me that you told me so, I know I deserve it. This isn't even the same as a regular mission- feels like it's my fault. The only reason Nikki was here at all is because I was. Maybe she wanted to make up, maybe we could have taken on Phoenix together..."

The wistfulness in Mac's tone gives him the sort of sick feeling that he'd usually only get after a swift kick in the gut. "That's not what she told me. She said she was going to take you in."

"Oh," Mac says, with abrupt relief. "Okay then- I mean, I still wish you'd waited for me to figure something out, but if she plain didn't trust you, I guess that's that."

"I don't know. I mean, we were in front of those three duffers the whole time. Maybe she didn't want to let on in front of them."

"If you didn't think so, that's good enough for me," Mac says softly. "I trust you."

He's thrown over his whole life, any chance of going back home, just to hear those three words. 

Like he'd said to Nikki, the other way hadn't even been a temptation. "Ditto. Say- when we do get back into Phoenix's good graces, do you think you could invent a protein bar that actually tastes like something?"

MacGyver looks slightly quizzical. "With Nikki dead, we're farther away from that than ever."

"Mac, I trust you. We'll manage it one of these days- so how about it?"

"Uh- oh, lemme guess. You want a bacon one, right?"

"Nah. See, I was thinking tequila."

"Why?"

"Safety, you know? I mean, I can eat bacon any time, but drinking on missions isn't such a hot move."

"Maybe I can fix up something to deal with that." A smile hovers around Mac's mouth, the first one to show up all day. "You know I'm a tolerable chemist."

"Are you saying you've been holding out on me with a liquor cure, this whole time? Why, you-"

(He knows it's okay to tease Mac a little, now.

Phoenix Foundation be damned. They're going to be just fine.)

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt. Day at the beach.

“This is the worst possible idea in the worst of all possible worlds,” Jack says moodily.

Mac looks at the trained, murderous assassin, currently occupied ferrying buckets of water between the ocean and a moat. “Probably.”

“And maybe you have your weird flirty whatever you have going on with him, but I’m sure not in for that.”

“I know that, Jack.”

“So tell me again. Why is Phoenix letting Murdoc out on the loose like this?”

“Birthday treat,” Mac says with a sigh. “I asked what he wanted for it, he said this. So I made sure he got it.”

“For the love of Pete, why?”

“Cos it’s what I’d want in his place,” Mac says earnestly. “Imagine if it was me imprisoned for months on end and not allowed to build anything- well, obviously not being allowed to make things isn’t the same as not being allowed to kill people, but I could see what he meant by the comparison…”

“Coming along splendidly, don’t you think?” Murdoc calls. “It’s a replica of a Borgias summer home! Sixteenth century!”

They look at the pile of wet sand. It resembles nothing so much as a pile of wet sand.

“…there isn’t enough double-chocolate ice cream in the world to compensate me for this, you know.”

“Cheer up. I could have picked a nude beach, y'know,” Mac points out.

Jack shudders.


End file.
